Practice Makes Perfect
by nondescriptf
Summary: "It's supposed to be a secret. You can't tell Mommy! You promised!" C/B. Birthday Fic for OllieCullie.


**A/N: Happy birthday OllieCullie! I am **_**positive**_** this is not what you had in mind for a bday oneshot, but it's what popped into my head. I hope you enjoy it—even if it's only marginally!**

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Clang. Clang. Clang.

Chuck closed his eyes and winced at the discordant sounds coming from the piano that had been moved into his office at the end of last week. He needed to get this last email out, and then he could take the entire afternoon off.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

He looked up to see his five year old son, happily pounding away at the keys, completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't making music—it was just noise. Chuck returned his attention to his computer, and finished typing his response, oblivious to the fact that the room had turned silent. As he triumphantly pressed the send button, he looked up to find the piano bench empty. Before he could even stand up and investigate, he felt a tugging on his arm.

"Are you done yet?" His son asked quietly, his face hopeful.

Chuck resisted the impulse to smile, and instead pinned a stern look on his face. "What was the agreement we made about you coming to my office, hmmm?"

"Daaaaaad!" Spencer dragged out, completely unfazed by his father's tone as he hopped up and down, still pulling on his sleeve.

"I thought you were supposed to be practicing," Chuck said pointedly.

"But it's not as much fun when you're not helping me!"

"Work rarely ever is."

The boy let out a loud, dramatic sigh. _Oh he definitely got that from his mother._

"Well?" He asked again.

Chuck watched as his son crawled into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck to give him a hug. Sweetly, Spencer said, "Please, stop working and play the piano with me."

Unable to resist any longer, Chuck hugged his son in return. As he stood up, he swung Spencer around in a circle and carried him to the musical instrument in question.

Spencer squealed in delight and asked him, "Can you play the notes while I hold your hand?"

Chuck laughed as he ruffled the dark locks on his son's head.

"Dad!" He huffed. "You're messing up my hair!"

_He was _so_ Blair's son._

"Sorry," Chuck apologized solemnly.

"It's ok, I forgive you," Spencer said, as he patted his father's hand. Then he grinned and demanded, "Put your hands down, so we can play together."

"One second," he said, as he walked over to the camcorder mounted on the tripod and turned it on.

"Why are you using the camera?" His son asked curiously.

"So we can show your mother later," he explained.

"No!" Spencer yelled, his eyes flashing as he crossed his arms and glared at him. "It's supposed to be a secret. You can't tell Mommy! You _promised_!"

"I'm not going to tell her now," Chuck explained patiently. "We'll show her _after_ you've played for her on her birthday. You know she'll be _very_ jealous when she finds out that she didn't get to be a part of this."

"Ohhh!" His son said in understanding. "You're afraid Mommy will get mad at you if she finds out."

Chuck looked down at his son and arched a brow. "I am _not_ afraid of your mother. And the only way she'll find out, is if _you_ tell her."

"Nuh-uh," Spencer said as he shook his head. "You tell Mommy _everything_."

"No, I don't!" Chuck argued childishly. He _didn't_ tell Blair everything—almost everything definitely did _not_ count.

"Yes you do. I won't be mad if Mommy tricks you into telling her, she's the smartest person in the entire world," Spencer said understandingly.

"Hey! What about me?"

His son rolled his eyes at him. "Well, of course you're the smartest _Daddy_ in the world, but Mommy is the smartest _person_. She knows _everything_!"

"But doesn't that make _me_ the smartest person in the world, since I convinced her to marry me?" Chuck asked solemnly.

"No way!" Spencer said dismissively. "Everyone loves Mommy, and she's the one who had to give you permission to marry her anyway."

Chuck made a face at his son and debated telling him to find himself another piano teacher, but he reminded himself that Spencer was the child and he was the adult. No, what he would have to do was make certain that his son's last words about his mother never made it into the final edit of the video. Blair would _never_ let him hear the end of it, their son referring to her as the smartest person in the world

"Are you going to play the piano with me or not?" Spencer asked expectantly. He pointed to the empty space on the piano bench next to him and then pointed to the instrument.

"Anything you say, Mr. Bass," Chuck teased.

Spencer laughed. "Daddy, you're so silly. _You're _Mr. Bass, I'm Spencer!"

Chuck smiled as he placed his hands on top of the keys. "You know, you're going to have to learn how to do this by yourself, right?"

"Mommy's birthday is on Sunday. I know I can learn it by then!" His son said solemnly as he placed his chubby little fingers on top of his father's.

Chuck felt the fluttering in his stomach, a whole different brand of butterflies than the ones Blair gave him. He couldn't help but marvel at how much trust his son had in him.

"Hurry up, Daddy! Play, play, play!" The boy ordered excitedly.

Slowly, Chuck began to play the notes, one by one, the familiar tune filling the air. When he was done, Spencer looked at him and said, "Again!"

Of course he complied, and did so a dozen more times at his son's request. Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away. "Now you try it," Chuck encouraged.

Hesitantly, the boy put his own small fingers on the keys, and attempted to mimic his father. When he hit too many wrong notes, Spencer pulled his hands away, and buried his face into his father's arm. "I can't do it."

"Yes, you can," Chuck said.

The boy shook his head silently.

"Basses aren't quitters, are they?"

"No," came the muffled response.

"Then let's try it again."

Spencer peeked up to look at him, and when he didn't see any irritation on Chuck's face, he shifted back and placed his hands back on the key.

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"Do you think that I'll ever play as well as you?" Spencer asked quietly, as they rode the limo home.

"If you keep practicing, and you want to, you can learn to play better than me," Chuck answered honestly.

"What if Mommy doesn't like my gift?" His son whispered worriedly.

Chuck turned and pulled his son onto his lap and looked him in the eye. "It's not possible—your mother loves everything about you."

"But Mommy has her secret smile whenever you play for her. And Daddy, you play really, really, really good. I just don't want to disappoint her," Spencer said as he looked away.

"I can promise you, that when you play 'Happy Birthday' for your mother—mistakes or not—she will absolute love it! In fact, she will probably have her own special smile just for you," Chuck said reassuringly.

"Ok," his son said with a sigh. "We have to practice at your office every day until Mommy's birthday."

"_We_ will?"

"Uh-huh."

"And what will we tell your mother when she asks why we're going to the office on a Saturday?"

"You can tell her that I'm helping you with your work," Spencer suggested helpfully. "I can draw you pictures for your wall."

"Your mother will be sad that you don't want to help her, and then insist you go with _her_ to her office so you can draw her even better pictures," Chuck said wryly.

His son looked perplexed and finally just shrugged. "You're the Daddy, it's your job to find a way."

"Thanks for leaving me with all the easy parts."

Spencer giggled and looked at his father with shining eyes. "I know you can do it, Daddy! You always make everything ok."

Chuck leaned over and kissed his son on the forehead. It was moments like this that made him love being a father, even believe that he was one of the good ones. And it was especially in moments like these, where he wondered if it was possible to love Blair any more for bringing Spencer into their world.

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"There you are," Blair cooed as he walked into their house with Spencer in tow. "My two handsome men in their handsome bowties."

"Mommy!" Spencer cheered happily as he wriggled out of his father's arms and onto the floor before launching himself at his mother.

Chuck watched as Blair rained kisses all over their son's face. When she pulled away, her nose wrinkled slightly as she started to comb Spencer's hair with her fingers. "Did your father do this to you?"

"Yup!" His son said, not hesitating to sell his father out.

Blair pursed her lips and shot him a look of irritation.

To avoid her scolding him, Chuck smoothly asked, "Where's my hello kiss?"

"After you kidnapped my son—."

"Ahem. That would be _our_ son," Chuck interrupted.

"—took him God knows where _and_ messed up his hair, I'm not so sure you deserve one," Blair said haughtily. Then with a sweet smile for her son, she asked him, "What do you think Spencer? Do you think Mommy should kiss Daddy hello?"

"Nope!"

"Spencer," Chuck growled as Blair laughed.

"You two kiss each other _alllllllll_ the time," their son said as he made a face. "It's so boring. Mommy just give Daddy a high five, and then we can go eat dinner. Dorota said she was going to make me pierogies!" And without so much as another glance at his parents, Spencer headed for the kitchen yelling at the top of his lungs, "Dorota!"

"Why does our son like pierogies so much?" Chuck said with a sigh as he slipped his arms around his wife's waist and drew her towards him.

"Your daughter apparently loves them, too," Blair confided, her eyes twinkling.

"Does she, now? And where is my little terror?" Chuck asked, only just realizing how quiet it was and how she hadn't come out to greet him.

"She's in the kitchen, helping Dorota make pierogies," Blair answered as she slid he hands up his chest and rested them on his shoulders.

"Why are we letting our children learn how to cook?" He murmured as he buried his head into her neck and nibbling on her lightly.

"Because they're children—only once," Blair said sternly, before mischievously adding, "And they'll be occupied for at least the next hour."

"My wife, the genius. I knew there was a reason why I married you," he said as he focused on enjoying the intoxicating scent that his wife exuded, she always spelled _home_ to him.

"As if you need more than one reason," Blair sighed happily when he started sucking on her ear.

"I suppose we should look in on them before disappearing upstairs?"

"It might prevent them from coming to look for us," Blair agreed.

Chuck forced himself to pull away from his wife. Hand in hand, they walked down the hall to check in on their children. They peeked around the corner to find Spencer sitting at the center island carefully scooping the meat and potato filling onto the rolled out dough. Three-year-old Madeline was sitting on her knees rolling out the dough, her lavender sundress covered with flour. She chose that moment to look up.

"Daddy, you're home!"

"Hello, Madeline," Chuck said with a smile. His daughter moved to slide off her chair, but he stopped her in her tracks. "Careful sweetheart, you don't want to slip."

She stretched out her arms and ordered, "Hug!"

Chuck walked in her direction but wrinkled his nose at her and shook his head. Madeline giggled as she reached out and tried to grab a hold him.

"No, Madeline!" Spencer said in a know-it-all tone. "You're going to get Daddy all messy."

His daughter frowned before sticking her tongue out at her brother. Blair and Dorota smothered their laughter.

Chuck leaned over to kiss his daughter on the nose. But just as he was about to pull away, she was a fraction too quick, and grabbed his suit jacket lapels, leaving small floury handprints.

"See, Daddy, you're messy now, too," Madeline said with a toothy grin as she let go and clapped her hands happily, and Chuck flinched as she got flour all over his face.

"_This_, Blair, is why I like limiting the children's exposure to the kitchen to Thanksgiving with your father," Chuck said irritably.

"I told you so!" Spencer said triumphantly.

Chuck opened one eye and made a face at his daughter. As he leaned over her to kiss her again, she placed her hands on his cheeks.

"Sorry Daddy!"

"It's a good thing I love you, princess," Chuck said wryly as he untangled himself from the floury mess that was his daughter. Looking at his son, he told him, "Have I told you you're my favorite son, Spencer?"

"I'm your _only_ son," Spencer answered smartly, before putting his focus back on meticulously scooping the fillings onto the dough.

"Chuck, you should change out of those clothes," Blair said as she batted her lashes innocently.

Dorota snorted.

"Spencer, Madeline, Mommy is going to help Daddy get dressed."

"Undressed is more like it," Dorota muttered under her breath.

"I heard that," Chuck murmured back to her before instructing the children. "Be good for Dorota."

Just as Blair led him towards the back staircase, Spencer called out, "Stay Mommy."

Blair's heart warmed as she looked at her son. "Honey, we'll be right back."

"I haven't seen you all day," Spencer explained.

"Yes, but you were the one who wanted your father to pick you up after school and go to the office with him, remember?" Blair reminded him.

"I'm here _now_," he pouted. _He was so Chuck's son, _and dammed if it didn't make her love her son that much more.

"But if Mommy stays here, who's going to help me?" Chuck interrupted with a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Daddy, I'll help you," Madeline volunteered sweetly.

"I don't know," Chuck pondered. "Your Mommy is the best helper in the whole wide world."

Before Blair could open her mouth, Madeline tugged on Chuck's sleeve and said, "I want to be just like Mommy."

"Well in that case, how can I resist?" Chuck said as he scooped up their daughter. He leaned over to kiss Blair squarely on the mouth. When he pulled away, she could see the longing in his eyes as he whispered into her ear, "Later."

And without another word, Chuck and Madeline disappeared upstairs. With a smile on her face she walked over to her son and said, "Ok, Spencer, you have my undivided attention. Tell me all about your day."

"Mrs. Shanahan was really funny today! When we were doing letters, she kept making animal noises…"

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"Alone at last," Blair said happily, three hours later, as she closed the door to the bedroom behind her. She walked up to her husband, and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face between his shoulder blades.

Chuck placed his hands over hers. "Your daughter was particularly charming today."

"_My_ daughter?"

"You're teaching her that it's perfectly acceptable to soil my five-figure suits."

"Says the man who ruffles _my_ son's hair?" She asked with an arched brow.

He shrugged as she stepped in front of him. "I know what you're doing, Bass."

"And what would that be, _Bass_?"

"You're trying to distract me so I won't find out what you were doing with _my_ son this afternoon. But don't think I'll be so easily distracted—."

His mouth crashed down on hers and she couldn't think of anything other than how much she had wanted to kiss him all day. Chuck continued to kiss her senseless, his hands running up and down her back.

"You're insufferable," she said with a smile as she pulled away.

"Yet you married me anyway," he pointed out.

Her hand found its way to his jaw, and she rubbed her thumb over his mouth. Playfully, he caught her finger between his teeth.

Blair rolled her eyes. "Only because you begged me to."

"Oh, you'll be the one begging tonight," he smarmed as he swept her up into his arms and then laid her down on their bed. When he crawled on top of her, her breath hitched as he pinned her wrists above his her head and trailed kisses down her neck.

"Chuck," she whimpered.

"Blair," he growled back.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," he said softly, his hands released hers and he cupped her face. He pressed a soft kiss on her lips.

She took advantage of the moment to flip them over, so she was the one on top pinning his wrists over his head. "So what were you and my son up to this afternoon?"

Chuck shook his head and groaned, "Why do I always fall for that trick?"

"Because you love me," Blair teased. "So you and Spencer were…?"

"I've been sworn to secrecy," Chuck deadpanned.

"My interrogation tactics can be quite unorthodox," she whispered into his ear, as she started to nibble on his neck. She let go of his hands as she adjusted her position so she sat on top of him. With painstaking slowness, she started to unbutton her shirt.

"Blair," he said hoarsely as she rolled her hips. "You're playing dirty."

"I learned from the best," she said as she tossed her shirt across the room. Running a finger down his chest, she started fiddling with his belt buckle. "Now, where were we?"

"Before you continue, might I offer an alternate solution?"

She stilled her movements and stared down at her husband. "I'm listening."

His hands found their way to her hips. "If you desist any further questioning on the topic regarding our firstborn, I might be convinced to let you open one of your birthday gifts tonight."

"One?" Blair asked, trying to keep the note of excitement from her voice.

"_Two_, if you play your cards rights," Chuck said cajolingly.

She leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Why don't we discuss the exact terms _after_?"

He rolled over so he was back on top of her. "Have I told you today, that I'm the luckiest man on the earth?"

"So then why are you still talking?" Blair asked smiling as she pulled his face down towards hers.

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><p><strong>AN: I have NO IDEA how this oneshot came to be, especially since I'm not a huge fan of kidfics (read: very particular about the C/B kids I **_**do**_** like). But I hope you enjoyed this ridiculously fluffy slice of domestic Chuck and Blair with their offspring.**

**Thank you to Iluvenis for sitting back and laughing while I went through my normal neurotic writing process, I'm so glad you were amused. And of course, thank you for having the exact same favorite part of this fic that I did, that's why you're so perfect—hahaha!**

**Also a debt of gratitude to Uncorazonquebrado for your feedback, you know I trust your writer's eye implicitly.**


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